


Just Enough

by obsessivewriter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessivewriter/pseuds/obsessivewriter
Summary: Six months after refusing Gendry's proposal and leaving him in Winterfell without saying goodbye Arya Stark arrives at Storm's End uninvited. She may have taken the long road, but...





	Just Enough

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfiction in ages but this story demanded to be written. Let me know what you think, for good or for bad, and if you think I should make this into a series.

Arya had never set foot in Storm's End and yet finding her way had not been difficult, after all, all the chambers and halls were contained in a massive drum tower. While the fabled seat of House Baratheon was built, destroyed and rebuilt to withstand the worst storms seven times, it was not impregnable to a quiet assassin such as Arya Stark.

  
Veiled under the darkness, she found the lord's chambers and entered carefully not to disturb its occupant. It had been six long moons since they had parted when he had got on one knee and asked her to marry him. Many lonely nights later Arya would wonder if things would have been different if he had asked her to leave together, aimless, to wander the crownlands, as they once did. But alas, he hadn't, and Arya had chastised herself at her passing sentimentality.

  
Instead, he had asked her to marry him, to be with him as his lady, and help him learn to rule the Stormlands. The satisfaction on his face to have a name to raise him from the low station that had damned him all his life brought a smile to her lips, and yet, it had been bittersweet. Once, long ago, she had asked him to be her family and accompany her to the Twins. His refusal had marked her much more than the scars that crisscrossed her torso. And now, for the first time, Arya had begun to understand him.

  
There were no goodbyes and no ravens for them to keep track of one another, and anyways, Arya was not even sure Gendry knew how to write. It had never occurred to her, not when she gave him the sketch of her weapon. Had he asked someone to read it for him? It was a moot point now, for she suspected the new Lord Baratheon would have had to learn, and she hoped there had been someone close to help him.

  
She did hear about him in those months when she surreptitiously traveled the land checking names off her list. A thing or two about the new lord of the Stormlands would reach her whenever she stayed at an inn, sometimes from gossipy tavern wenches and others from bards singing the praises of the new heroes of the Realm. News of his looks and his strength traveled far. Stories talked about how it hadn't been easy to get his bannermen to follow him at first, with his humble origins and his arguable legitimization. But he had gained the support of the smallfolk before the lords. The new Lord Baratheon, one of their own, worried about feeding them after the uncertain times of the war of the five kings and the loss of their lord, Stannis Baratheon, first to the red priestess and then to a forgotten death in the North. Gendry, who had pleaded with her that he wouldn't know how to be a lord without her help, learned to rule by understanding the very people who needed his guidance. At first, he had stunned them with the unequivocal Baratheon look and his deadly war hammer, and then he had won them over when he rolled up his sleeves and worked in the forges and in the fields alongside them.

  
She liked listening to stories of Gendry, and then the songs of the messy battle of Winterfell and everything that came after. The "Bringer of Dawn" and "Hero of Winterfell" were names for which she did not care, she was much more interested in hearing of him. One mention that did not sit well with her was a saucy tune that praised his looks and wondered if he genuinely was Robert Baratheon reborn, bedding highborn ladies and wenches alike. That feeling was another one that she chose not to dwell upon.

  
She justified her interest in the tales and songs as merely wanting to know he was happy and nothing more, but then one lonely night had been one night too many, and her steps had brought her to Shipwrecker's Bay. Arya hadn't planned ahead what she would do once she reached his castle, she feared what overthinking about it would make her feel.

  
Soon she found herself in the lord's chambers, standing by his bed while Gendry slept peacefully. It had been ridiculously easy to break in, she would have to berate him later for his carelessness.

  
His bare chest rose and fell quietly, he was on his side with an ornate duvet barely covering his lower half. His hair had grown in their time apart, and he sported a full beard, making him look older than he really was. Looking at him, on the soft mattress in the middle of the opulent chamber almost made it look like he had always been a lord, a highborn raised in a castle to lead and never set foot in a forge. Fearing where this train of thought would take her and worried she would lose her resolve, she started shedding her clothes, and once nude she furtively joined him in bed. She slithered until she was right next to him, Arya savored his scent, and only then truly realized how much she had missed him.

Not wanting to wait any longer, she placed her hand on his side, its warmth enthralling her and encouraging her to caress its way to his chest, but then, just as it was resting where she could feel his heartbeat, his firm hand ripped it away and without looking barked back, "Seven hells Jeyne! I've told you and the others that I am not interested."

  
The sudden outburst startled Arya, and it took her a second to understand what he had said, but once she did, she became enraged and swiftly pulled him on his back, seating astride him and pushing her left arm against his throat. His deep blue eyes widened, and it took him a moment to swim out of his confusion.

  
"Arya!" He growled, his voice still gruff from sleep and from the pressure her forearm was placing on it.

  
"Oh, you know me now?" she asked visibly upset, "must have been hard with the hordes of women queuing to warm your bed, with Jeyne and, what was it?" she asked looking up to exaggerate her rhetoric, "oh yes, all the others, _my Lord._ "

  
Those last words she had added while getting her face as close to him as she could without touching. Gendry had always felt as hot as standing next to the forge every time that Arya had been near. Their torrid affair had been too brief and they had burned like wildfire, but this time the heat that he sensed was not from a potential kiss but from her smoldering eyes.

  
"No! I have not been with anyone in Storm's End!" he quickly replied placing his hands on her shoulders and pushing her off him just enough so he could sit up on the luxurious bed. Arya let her arm fall from his throat and he lowered his hands to her hips to set her on his lap. They both quickly discovered that nothing separated them once she was settled. The contact had been electric, and yet Arya had not let herself be distracted in her rage, and with a soft shake of her head, she went back to his words.

  
"Not in Storm's End?" she asked with half-lidded eyes and a soft blush on her cheeks that Gendry suspected mirrored his own.

  
"No, I mean... no one since you," he said in earnest.

  
Arya liked the answer, but she continued warily, "and who is Jeyne?" the name sprung from her lips with an acrid taste. That name had tainted memories attached to it, from another life when she had cruelly been made to realize that she would never be beautiful or loved. The proof of the fallacy of that thought was making itself evident under her, and yet, that belief was powerful enough to make her seethe. "Funny how you were not startled to find a naked woman in your bed, tell me Lord Baratheon, is it a common problem, finding this Jeyne and the others offering themselves to you every night?"

  
To Gendry it was as clear as the day when Arya had flicked the switch in her head, masking herself to protect her heart. It was not the first time that she had been bare atop him but with her feelings warily guarded. It made him want to yell in frustration and hold her close to his chest until she understood that she would never have to fear her getting hurt ever again. He swallowed slowly and spoke measuring his words, "just some chambermaids who have offered, Jeyne is just the most... enthusiastic of the lot."

  
Arya glared for a moment and finally spoke, "very insolent of them to be so forward with their new lord liege."

  
"Not too long ago someone could have said exactly the same about me," he countered, while he brushed back some loose hair from her face.

  
"It was not the same thing, and you know it," Arya replied irked, and tried to move away, but Gendry was swift to stop her.

  
"It was, and in any case, you cannot blame them. People knew I was a lowborn and yet I dared rise above my station," he said as the hand that had stopped her settled on her uncovered thigh and reminded him of something much more important. "But the question, Lady Stark, is not why those girls would offer themselves, but why would the Bringer of the dawn's very naked body be in my lonely bed?" With the last part, Gendry's sly grin grew.

  
Arya knew she was in trouble, and that she was not the only one affected by their current position. Before she spoke she knew she was fighting a losing battle, what was she doing anyway? If he hadn't mentioned another name, what would they be doing now?

  
"You're stupid!" Not her wittiest remark by miles.

  
"And you are beautiful and naked as a babe, and on top of me once more. What did I do to deserve such honor?" he asked as his hands wandered her back, one going north to secure her against him and the other one stealthily going south.

  
Arya huffed defeated and looking up she sighed, "I missed you."

  
It was all that Gendry needed to crash his lips against hers, they kissed like they had kissed that first time in the storage room, ungracefully and urgently, the only difference being that this time they were fighting to take control.

  
Gendry had the upper hand since the lavishly carved headboard that depicted the history of the Baratheons prevented Arya from pushing him back. He propelled her backward and trapped her under him, with one hand supporting himself as to not crush her entirely under his weight, and his other one unceremoniously caressing her left breast and gently squeezing it.

  
"I missed you too, so damn much."

  
"I can tell," she said cheekily pushing herself against him and hooking one of her legs over his arse. Arya rejoiced at the moan her actions elicited in him.

  
"Fuck Arya!" He said with closed eyes.

  
"Language my lord," she said impishly, "you don't want people to think you are a lustful bastard under all those fine silks you undoubtedly wear now."

  
That last bit made him open his eyes wide and smile, and Arya realized that his pupils were so dilated that there was almost no blue showing.

  
"Would m'lady prefer me taking her against the wall of the forge like before? It can be arranged." Arya shivered at the memory of the second and last time they had joined, frenzied, once the shock of the victory had passed and their bodies had healed just enough. It had been before the feast and the debacle that followed.

  
In response, Arya opened her lips slightly and licked her bottom lip while looking at his mouth. She arched her body, and the hard pebbles of her nipples drove Gendry mad. She took advantage of the distraction and using her weaponized body, effortlessly shifted them until he lay with his head near the footboard and her on top.

  
Gendry saw her sitting upon him, her body glowing with the halo of the low fire that burned behind her.

  
"You are too easy to defeat," she announced with pride.

  
"And you are a fool if you think I am losing over here." He replied, experiencing happiness that he had long forgotten about.

  
"Idiot," she said lowering herself slowly to him.

  
"Love," he replied accepting her kiss.

  
Once Gendry had let her take control, their furor had calmed a bit. There would be no horns announcing the arrival of the army of death, nor the fear of getting caught, they could now afford to take their time.

  
Having her on top gave his hands the freedom to roam, he took his time to touch every soft surface and every sinuous scar. Arya reacquainted herself with his lips and experimented with the new sensation of his full beard. It tickled her when he kissed her neck and left her breathless when she pushed himself enough to savor her breasts.

  
When his thumb found her, she could not stop from moaning his name, and Gendry challenged himself to see how many more times and how many different ways it could be said.

  
When she was ready, she guided him into her.

  
"I missed this, I missed us," she sighed.

  
"This is home," was all he replied.

* * *

 

The knock on the door woke him, and for a second he thought it had all been in his dreams, but her scent lingered on the pillow and on his body. Gendry did not want to open his eyes and realize she had left him once more, the gods would be cruel to smarten his wounds, and yet, he knew he would gladly go through it over and over again if it only meant having her near for a fleeting moment.

  
He could hear the natural sounds of the morning routine, Jeyne or whoever was now placing a tray of food on the table, on the other side of his spacious chambers. He needed to gather his courage and look for her on the bed, and stop procrastinating on the inevitable heartbreak that surely awaited him. But the abrupt dipping of the mattress announced him that she had stayed and was now rising. He had barely sat and rubbed the sleep from his eyes when her voice startled the young maid and the lord alike.

  
"That'd be all," her voice clear and cold. No matter how many times she swore she was no lady, her highborn command did not falter.

  
Gendry turned to her just as the girl did, and both were startled by her nakedness. She was not fazed, and lazily bent down to pick up his discarded tunic and donned it while approaching the intruder. Gendry was at a loss for words while she watched the only woman he ever loved advance on Jeyne, luck would have it that it was the once bold girl's turn to bring the food to break his fast this very day.

  
Arya stared at her while reaching for an apple from the tray "Jeyne, is it?" she asked.

  
The poor girl had blushed so furiously that you would have thought it was her who was caught undressed in the lord's chamber.

  
"Yes, m'lady."

  
"I'm Arya," she said. She then bit the apple ravenously and took her time chewing it. Once she swallowed the piece, she pointed towards the bed and added, "and he is mine."

  
The girl just nodded, "would that be all m'lady?"

  
"No, please tell the other girls that if I hear that any of them even bats a lash at my husband, I will do to them what I did to the Night King. I'm sure you have all heard the songs."

  
"Yes, m'lady," she said and left the room. Once the door closed, Gendry could hear her running away. It was then that Arya let her mask fall and laughed heartily. It broke Gendry out of the spell, and he walked to her determinedly, not even bothering to dress. She did the thing with her eyebrow, and he could feel his blood beginning to boil, in a very different way than it had hours before.

  
"Your husband?" he asked not letting himself hope. "Will you take me up on my offer finally? Or was that just for her?"

  
"I told you I do not want to be the Lady of Storm's End. Or any lady, really."

  
"Seven hells Arya! Why do you keep doing this?" He yelled in frustration, "am I only that to you? A quick lay that you can leave until you get the itch again, in what? Another six moons?"

  
Arya remained impassive looking at him. She took her time to place the half-eaten apple back on the tray.

  
"Don't be stupid," she replied "that wasn't quick at all. We were going at it for hours," she flirted enraging Gendry more.

  
"Stop jesting! Do you think this is easy for me? You know how I feel about you." He then let himself touch her, cradling her cheek with his hand.  
"How can you be this cruel? Haven't I paid my debt to you? Are you going to keep torturing me because I left you before?" He felt depleted.  
"No," was all that she answered.

  
He was done. Gendry let go of her and turned back, he placed his hands on the back of his head and walked towards the window. The Stormlands stood before him, vast and lush from the rain. It was laughable, all of that was his now, all because of a dead fat king who once stopped at a tavern and had his fill of ale and his selfish pleasure. It could have been any of his many half-siblings, but luck, and Arya really, had it to be him. Gendry never owned anything beyond what he could wear and carry, and yet now that he had it all he felt empty handed.

  
"Then what?" he asked without turning to see her. He could not see her walk out of his life once more. He had been wrong when he woke, having her leave while he slept was not the worst way he could bleed.

  
"I will never marry you," she said as she embraced him from behind. Her cheek resting on his strong back.

  
"I got that, alright?" He retorted, and he turned to face her, "I won't ask again. But why would you refer to me as your husband? Was it just to torture that poor girl?"

His outburst exasperated Arya, "No! Don't you get it?"

  
"What Arya? What don't I get? That you will not marry me ever, yes I do. I finally got it through my thick dumb skull."

  
His frustration was evident.

  
"No, you don't," Arya stated.

  
"Then explain it to me, because I can't understand Arya."

  
"You haven't realized that I will never marry you because you are mine and I am yours!" She was now standing on tiptoes and holding his face with her hands, "I don't want to be the Lady of Storm's End and I can't promise you that I won't take to the road from time to time, but what I can promise is that I will always come back to you. And every morning I wake up in your arms, it will be because I love you, you stupid bull."

  
Gendry would not say that all their differences were solved, but her words were worth more than all the riches he had inherited along with his family name. He kissed her slowly and rested his forehead on hers afterward.

  
"Will it ever be enough?"

The Arya who asked him that was the same who many years before had offered to be his family. Every day and every night since she had refused him he had felt sorry for himself. He had raged as he beat steel, first at Winterfell and then and Storm's End; and then he had worked himself to the bone in the fields, and taken the time to play with kids of his people. And all through that, he damned his fortune that denied him Arya. But now, with her in front of him, just as he had years before he remembered that he had not always been the victim, but he had his share of being the torturer.

  
He pulled her flush against him and she burrowed her face on his side.

  
"Just you in my life, it's all I will ever need."

  
"Then, I am home."

**Author's Note:**

> So, hate it?
> 
> My headcanon is that they had one more encounter post-battle and pre-proposal.


End file.
